


Come Share the View

by Clicks



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Other, Scent Kink, Will Graham's imagination, feat. little willy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:38:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8870740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clicks/pseuds/Clicks
Summary: If he's ever left in this car alone again, Will thinks he's going to have to spill some of his atrocious aftershave. The one with the ship on the bottle.





	

**Author's Note:**

> don't talk to me or my scent kink ever again

How did Hannibal deal with this every day?

The car was filled with the scent of his, disgustingly expensive, cologne, and it was driving Will mad. Hannibal had to have done this on purpose; if Will, with his dead body and dog fur ruined nose, could smell it enough to be distracted, Hannibal must have an olfactory seizure every time he opened the car door. Will wasn't even allowed to get out and help with the scene that _he had been called in for._ Hannibal, as Will’s unofficial therapist, had recommended that the younger man stay in the car while he dealt with the crime scene at hand.

_“Will, I think it best if you remain in the car for the time being. They hardly need your talents for this job.”_

_“Is that your personal preference, or therapeutic recommendation?”_

_“It is both my recommendation as a therapist, and my desire as your friend.”_

So here he was. Sitting in an absurdly expensive car, surrounded by absurdly expensive cologne, while his therapist and _friend_ ruined his absurdly expensive shoes squelching around in mud in the middle of the night.

Will sighed, shifting to find a more comfortable position, and getting another whiff for his troubles. He couldn’t even see what was going on around outside him through the fogged car windows. Hannibal had to have done that on purpose; a car this fancy would surely have a defogging function. If Will asked why he was being left behind, Hannibal would probably spout off some bullshit about Will’s “fragile mental state,” which, admittedly, wasn’t too far off from the truth. Will had been feeling increasingly unstable lately, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t deal with himself. He had managed long before Hannibal had come around, and he would continue to do so long after the other man left.

Hannibal had been polite enough to leave the heat on for Will, and the warmth of the car was making him drowsy, lulling him into a semi-awake state. Lack of a regular sleep schedule had left him straddling the twilight zone between consciousness and unconsciousness, and Will often found himself speaking to others of things that had only happened in his mind.

Will slumped lower into his seat. It seemed Hannibal and the officers had wandered away from the car- Will could no longer make out the vague shapes of bodies, and the hypnotic swinging of a myriad of flashlights. He groaned and crossed his arms, glaring at the roof of the car. If Hannibal had just let him help, they would have been finished _hours_ ago. Why even bother bringing him along if he was just going to be made to sit in the car like a petulant child? He closed his eyes and tried to quell his rising annoyance. Hannibal was just trying to help. _Someone_ had to have his best interests in mind.

It was sad that the closest thing Will had to a friend was someone who was being paid to speak to him. Hannibal would say otherwise, claiming that he actually enjoyed talking to Will, but the only people who ever said things like that were people who were nearly as fucked up as he was. Or people who wanted to write books about him. It did feel nice, though, to know that there was someone who he could call in the middle of the night when his brain would go into overdrive, and begin to bombard him with images from all his past jobs.  Not that Will had ever taken Hannibal up on that particular offer. There were some things he would much rather deal with alone.

However, Will was thinking it may be time for him to begin distancing himself from Dr. Lecter. He was beginning to feel too comfortable around the other man. Will had always seen himself as a red-blooded heterosexual male, and prided himself on the fact that at least in _that_ regard, he was fairly normal. Hannibal was turning the one thing he had thought was a concrete fact about himself completely upside down. Will had never been attracted to men before. He could appreciate a handsome man on the street or in a magazine, but it had never gone any farther than that, until Hannibal had come along. Hannibal, with his broad shoulders, and his cultivated European accent, all clipped vowels and sharp enunciation, and his _fucking_ cologne, and-

“You can’t be serious.”

Will looked down incredulously. He had somehow managed to go from half-mast to fully erect without even noticing. This hadn’t happened since he was a teenager, with a teenager’s libido. He slapped his face and tried to will it away, to no avail.

He growled at himself. “Why now? Of all places, you decide here, in Hannibal’s car, is a good place to pop a stiffy? What’s wrong with you?”

Will dragged his hands down his face, looking at his crotch from between his fingers. “I can’t believe I’m scolding my penis like it’s an errant puppy.”

This was probably one of the most awkward situations he had been in in a while, battling even with the time he had kissed Alana. Here he was, sitting in his friend’s car, battling an erection that had come about while he was thinking about said friend and how nice he smelled, and the longer he sat here, the more he risked Hannibal popping up and seeing Little Willy in all his glory.

“I’m about to break every law of friendship known to man.”

Giving a quick glance through the windows, still fogged, still dark, Will sighed and began to unzip his pants, shimmying them down his hips just enough for his dick to spring free from his pants. He hadn’t worn boxers today, and he supposed that was a good thing, as he would probably be throwing these pants away as soon as he returned home, to save himself the misery of remembering this moment every time he looked at them.

Will doubted Hannibal carried lube in his car like some horny twenty year old, but opening the armrest did provide him with, “Monogrammed?! Are you kidding me?” handkerchiefs. Will picked one up carefully; the thread count was probably higher than all the sheets in his house combined. “I can’t believe I’m about to jack off into something that costs more than my car note.”

He spit into the handkerchief, grimacing when Hannibal’s face popped into his mind, unwanted, with a disapproving look. “No, nuh uh, I am not going to think about Hannibal while I do this. No fucking way.”

He closed his eyes and gripped his member, wanting to end it as quickly as possible. Will inhaled, and immediately regretted it, as his arousal heightened senses were flooded with Hannibal’s scent. Every movement stirred the air around him, and he was beginning to feel dizzy with the heady smell of Hannibal’s cologne and his own arousal. He gave himself a slow pump, the fabric gripped in his hand sliding across his flesh as smooth as silk. As much as he tried to avoid it, Hannibal’s image continued to appear in his mind’s eye, smirking.

“ _This is a very good development, Will. I’m glad that you feel comfortable enough with yourself to explore your body. It’s healthy to get out of your head and enjoy the pleasures of the world around you.”_

Will gasped, turning his head to the side and burying his face in the headrest of the seat, inhaling lungfuls of,

“Hannibal _. Fuck.”_

The hand between his legs sped up, and, suddenly, it was Hannibal with his fingers grasping him, murmuring in his ear.

_“I think this is something we could talk about, don’t you? I’m very pleased that you trust me enough to do this. I wonder, how far would you be willing to- “_

“Stop talking.”

Will was too far gone to stop himself from speaking aloud, and continued, soft grunts peppering his speech, “I know you wanted this to happen. You’ve been steering me this way the entire time, haven’t you? Always standing so close to me, touching me, _smelling me_. This was your design from the beginning, wasn’t it?”

His mind’s Hannibal ignored him, continuing to speak, “ _Everyone’s always so wary of you. They speak about you as if you were some feral beast, always on the cusp of snapping at their fingers, but I can see you for what you really are. You’re an animal in a cage that was always too small for you, being poked and prodded at by people who don’t see your fangs. And every day, you bend the bars a little more, don’t you? When they snap, who will be there to restrain you? Who will be there to leash the creature that is Will Graham?”_

Will groaned, the sound loud in the quiet car, and then he was coming, sullying the pristine white fabric still gripped in his hand. For a moment, he sat, dazed and dozing, face still pressed against the cushion of the headrest, gasping and taking in great gulps of warm air. He felt as if he had just run a marathon.

He gave a delirious laugh when he lifted his head and saw that, impossibly, the windows were even more fogged than they were to begin with, but his laughter became a choking cough when he heard Hannibal’s voice right outside the driver’s door, speaking to one of the police officers. He scrambled to pull up his pants, shoving the soiled piece of cloth in his pocket, and looking into the rearview mirror to fix his hair. His eyes were bright and his cheeks were flushed. He looked as if he had just finished a quickie in some skeevy club bathroom, but it would have to do for the time being, as Hannibal was opening the back door of the car, placing his, already folded, overcoat onto the seat.

When he sat down in the driver’s seat, Will did not turn to look at him, instead watching Hannibal in his peripheral vision. He saw the older man’s nostrils flare, and flinched when Hannibal turned to speak him.

“Will, would you please place my gloves in the compartment in front of you?”

Will gave a relieved, “Yeah, sure,” and took the proffered gloves, noticing Hannibal’s eyes were dark in the overhead light. When he opened the glove compartment and tossed the gloves inside, a small container fell to the floor in front of him. He picked it up and gave a strangled, uncomfortable laugh, “Surgical lubricant, Dr. Lecter? Really?”

Hannibal’s only response was a small, slow smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Two fics in a week? I'm on a fucking roll.
> 
> I have such a disjointed manner of writing; I really need to work on that. My timeline is probably all over the place, so I apologise for that.


End file.
